


Sundays

by waywardangel (leviarty)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviarty/pseuds/waywardangel
Summary: a few mostly fluffy moments with the Winchester Family
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at some undefined time, and I’m ignoring certain plot points in favor of cute boys being family. The parts are not necessarily told in order, and there are definite gaps of time between them.

_one_

Sam yawned as he dragged himself down the hall early one Sunday morning.

In their line of work, lazy Sundays were never really an option. They had to be ready to drop everything and roll at a moment’s notice. It had been easier, in a way, when they were living on the road, never stopping anywhere long enough to settle. But now they’ve nested in the bunker, their belongings scattered around the library, kitchen, bedrooms.

They hadn’t gone completely lax. A lifetime of hunter habits wasn’t easy to break. They each had a go-bag stored near the exit, and Baby was always stocked with necessities. Though their lives no longer fit in one back, they were still prepared.

It had been a while since they needed to leave in a hurry, though. These days, they spent more time sending other hunters on cases, while the Winchesters stayed home, running things from behind the scenes. These days, sleeping in occasionally was okay, it was okay to mosey around the bunker in his socks, to relax a little.

Sam was not altogether surprised to find that Cas and Jack were already up and about – they rarely slept more than 4 hours between them – but he was surprised to find them _cooking_. Jack was wearing his Scooby-Doo pajamas, and even Cas had ditched his usual wardrobe for a dark flannel shirt and faded jeans.

“Is this right?” Jack asked, showing the contents of the bowl to Cas for confirmation.

“I think so,” Castiel said.

Jack face grew into a broad smile. He looked over his shoulder at Sam. “We’re making pancakes!”

Sam smiled back at him before moving to pour himself a cup of coffee. Part of him wondered if Cas was the best person to teach him to make, well, anything, and further wondered _who had taught Cas?_

“There will also be eggs,” Cas assured him.

“Okay, now what do we do?” Jack asked, as they both turned their attention back to the stovetop.

Sam leaned against the doorway, sipping his coffee. He smiled fondly as he watched two celestial entities discuss breakfast foods.

_two_

The bunker acted at the hub of all things hunter related in the States. The Winchesters had a network of hunters that spanned the whole country. Some travelled, living on the road, as they once did, while others kept mainly to their home turf. And if one was in the area? Well, the Winchesters always welcomed them in the bunker for as long as they needed.

Claire was hunched over the laptop, cycling through various news articles, looking for something, _anything_ interesting, while Sam and Jack were at the next table, fiddling with the pieces to some board game.

“Did you know that Lebanon, Kansas is the geographical center of the United States?” she asked.

Sam made a sound of affirmation. “We think that’s probably why the Men of Letters built the bunker here. We’re almost done setting up over here,” he added. Claire grunted something unintelligible and waved him off.

“You agreed to play, remember?” Jack said. “It will be fun!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Board games are for kids,” she said.

“Well, technically, I am only 3 years, 1 month, 2-“

“I get it,” she said, stopping him. “You _are_ a kid. Fine, I’ll be over in a minute.” She finished perusing the article she was reading, settling on the probability of it being a psycho killer, not a supernatural one, before closing the laptop.

As she reached out to grab her crutches, Sam’s phone rang. Being closer, she picked it up, showing him the screen. **Jody Mills calling…** She answered the called and tapped the speaker. “Winchesters’ Home for Wayward Kids, how may I direct your call?” Claire said, earning a quirked smile from Sam, and furrowed brow from Jack.

“Hiya kiddo,” Jody said. “How’s the leg?”

“Hurts like a mo-fo,” Claire said. “I should be fine to head out in a few days though.”

“Uh huh,” Jody said, clearly seeing right through her. “Is Sam around?”

“Hey Jody,” he said. “Don’t worry, we won’t let her leave too soon.”

“Appreciated. Listen, we’ve got something weird here. Thought it was werewolves at first, but silver didn’t do a damn thing. Have you ever encountered a Jakkal?”

Sam and Claire shared a look and shrugged. “No, I don’t think so,” Sam said, rising from his chair. Claire already had the laptop open and searching when he got to her.

“Egyptian, right?” Jack asked, scanning over a section of books along the wall.

“Possibly. I can’t find anything concrete, but it’s the only other creature that might line up,” Jody said. “Problem is, even if it _is_ real… I have no idea how to fight it.”

“Decapitation is always a good start,” Claire suggested, as she scrolled through a useless google search, Sam reading over her shoulder.

“I think I have something,” Jack said, setting a book down so they could read. “Physiologically, they are very similar to werewolves, but according to this, there is one key difference.”

“Gold,” Sam said after reading the passage. “Do you have any gold weapons?”

There was a moment’s pause. “No, can’t say that I do. What the hell kind of creature is vulnerable to _gold_?”

“Banshees, mostly, and apparently Jakkals. Listen, Dean and Cas are on their way back from a case in Rochester, shouldn’t be more than a few hours from you. I’ll have them swing by.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Be careful, Jody,” Claire said.

“Will do, kiddo. See you soon,” she said before hanging.

“I should go help her,” Claire said. She rose from her chair, momentarily forgetting about her injury. She hissed in pain, falling back into the chair.

“You’re no good to her with that leg,” Sam said, passing her crutches to her. “Besides, Dean and Cas are closer. They’ll watch her back. Besides, we have a board game to get to,” he added.

She groaned as Jack made a sound of triumph. “Alright, what are we playing?” she asked as she hobbled over.

“It’s called _Dead of Winter_ ,” Sam answered. “It’s basically our day job.”

“It has zombies!”

_three_

“See now, you made three mistakes,” Dean said. The demon paced back and forth on the other side of the room, twirling a blade in his hands.

“Me?” the demon said. “Just what do you think is going on here? You are bound; I’ve confiscated your weapons; your brother and your pet angel are on the other side of the country. I have a clear advantage.”

Dean laughed. “First mistake, letting yourself within a hundred miles of me. You know all your buddies are tracking us, right? They’re very careful to stay very far from anywhere I am. Which means, its been a while since I’ve iced a demon.”

“Gotten rather rusty?” the demon taunted.

Dean shook his head again. “Not rusty. Hungry.”

“Mmhmm,” the demon said, still not taking his threat seriously. “Do enlighten me, what was my second _mistake_?”

“Taking something I care about.”

“Ah, but I correctly assumed that you would take the bait.”

“You underestimated the scale of a pissed off Winchester.” Despite his words, Dean was completely calm.

“Listen here,” the demon said, walking closer, pointing at Dean with the blade. “I’m no fool. I’ve heard the stories – big scary hunter, and all that. But you’re alone here. Your boy is already dead, and even if any of your allies had the first clue where you were… they’re all too far away to do anything about it. You have no backup.”

“Third mistake,” Dean said when the demon was close. He slammed his head into its nose, sending it staggering backward as Dean dropped his bindings and swiped the knife from its hands. He shoved the demon into the wall, blade at its throat. “Where is he?” he asked, rage dripping from his voice.

“I told you. He’s dead. Dead and buried.”

“Maybe you think you did, but he’s not human; a measly demon like you couldn’t kill him. So I’ll ask again. WHERE IS MY SON?” he roared.

“You’ll never find him,” the demon said.

Dean thrust the knife upward, driving it through its throat. The demon crackled out of existence and fell to the ground in a heap.

“Jack?” Dean called out, moving quietly as he listened for any sign of him. “Jack?”

“Dean!” a faint voice called back.

“Jack?! Where are you?”

“Dean,” he said again.

“Just keep making noise kid, so I can find you.”

Dean did find him within a few minutes, locked in a hidden cellar under a trapdoor.

“You okay?” Dean asked, giving him a visual once over – no blood or broken bones – before pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m fine,” Jack said. “A little hungry though. Can we get hot dogs?”

_four_

The four Winchesters sat around a picnic table, finishing up a round of burgers and beers from their favorite place in Nebraska.

There was no urgency to this particular pit stop. They were on the way home from a nearby hunt, but Charlie and Rowena were holding down the bunker while they got out to stretch their legs. A little family road trip was just what they needed.

“Look, I’m not saying a calzone _is_ a sandwich –”

“Because it’s not!” Sam exclaimed.

“It just _like_ a sandwich,” Dean said, ignoring his brother’s interjection.

“I would think a calzone has more in common with a pizza than with a sandwich,” Cas said.

“I’ve never had a calzone,” Jack said thoughtfully.

“It’s the perfect sandwich-pizza hybrid,” Dean told him. “We’ll find a place that serves them tomorrow.”

Jack smiled and nodded, excited by the prospect of trying something new.

“What about a pop-tart?” Cas asked a few moments later.

“What about pop-tarts?”

“Would you classify them as a sandwich or a ravioli?”

“Ravioli,” Dean answered without hesitation, as Sam let a loud groan.

“We should hit the road before it gets dark,” Sam said. “Please let this blasphemy die here.”

They collected their trash and threw it in the bin on the way back to the car.

“Sit in the back, Sammy,” Dean instructed as Sam reached for the passenger handle. Sam furrowed his brow in question, but Dean just tilted his head toward the rear seats, wordlessly issuing the instruction again. He tossed his keys to Jack, who looked down at them in confusion.

“You’re letting him drive?” Cas asked.

“Am I dying?” Jack asked. “Last time you let me drive, I was dying.”

Dean laughed and shook his head, as they all got into the Impala. The arrangement felt foreign, but oddly comfortable.

“Are _you_ dying?” Jack asked.

“You did good today kid. You earned it. Just go easy on her.”

Jack carefully put the keys in the ignition and started the car. It was rough at first, as he familiarized himself with driving again for the first time in a while. Dean seemed weirdly unfazed, and where Sam would’ve been kicked from the driver’s seat for far less, Jack was given gentle tips and reminders until he found a good groove.

Jack turned on the radio and flipped through the stations, stopping on some Top 40 pop.

“Oh god, no,” Dean said, reaching to change it, only to have his hand swatted away by Jack.

“Driver picks the music,” he parroted. “Shotgun shut’s his cakehole.”

From the backseat, [Sam threw his head back, laughing with his whole body](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b8507c458b6d2851d814216c55f8e4b7/7e288df2a95118cf-c2/s540x810/497674b16b869966a713635385fef8eadf80d0cc.gif).

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I would actually like to continue this, so if you have any suggestions for character dynamics/situations, throw them my way. They need not be Jack-centric, but family-focus is a must :)


End file.
